I was jealous.

There. I had admitted it, at least to myself. Pretending otherwise had become exhausting.

And today wasn't any different.

Cheng sat several rows away in the lecture theatre, surrounded by his new football teammates as though they had appointed themselves his personal guard. As if joining the basketball team wasn't enoguh.

One of them leaned over the back of the seat beside him while another said something that made the group laugh. Cheng barely reacted. He lounged in his chair with his arms relaxed, looking perfectly comfortable.

Like he wasn't ignoring me at all.

Lately, wherever Cheng went, they followed. And whenever I appeared, someone suddenly needed him somewhere I couldn't go because I wasn't part of the team.

Training. Drinks. Team meetings. Some stupid conversation that apparently required every football player in England except me.

I was his friend. I'd been there before those idiots.

The thought was childish, and knowing that didn't make it disappear.

Maybe Cheng needed space. We lived together now, after all, and moving into his apartment had been his idea. Before that, he'd spent so much time attached to my side that I'd almost forgotten he had a life besides me. It wasn't fair to resent him for making other friends just because I apparently had no idea how to do the same.

But couldn't he see what they were doing?

Couldn't he see how much less time we spent together?

How something that had once felt almost impossible to escape was suddenly thinning between us?

That was the part I couldn't admit without feeling pathetic.

I wasn't only jealous.

I was scared.

"Make sure to enjoy your Christmas holiday, but remember to access the contents and papers to read, already available online. Have a nice holiday."

I blinked.

Around me, laptops snapped shut and chairs scraped against the floor.

Apparently, I had ignored the tutor for more than an hour.

He shut down the lecture computer and gave the students approaching his desk the exhausted smile of someone who had already mentally started his holiday.

Brilliant.

I packed my things and stood when my row began filing towards the stairs. Halfway down, I felt Cheng watching me.

I didn't look back.

If he wanted space, I could give him space.

Outside, cold air slapped against my overheated face. I had barely made it through the university doors when something caught my arm and pulled me backwards.

"I'm calling you."

I knew the voice before I turned.

Cheng stood behind me, visibly annoyed, his fingers tight around my arm. The pressure sent a sharp ache through it, and I barely stopped myself from grimacing.

"I didn't hear you." I pressed my hand over his, trying to loosen his grip. "And I'm going home. I'm hungry."

Instead of letting go immediately, Cheng's mouth curved into that familiar smirk—the one that usually appeared whenever he'd noticed something he liked.

Wait—

"Cool. Emma asked me to go out and eat something." His grip softened, sliding from my arm until his hand found mine. "You're coming too."

Before I could object, he was leading me back towards the building.

His palm was warm against mine.

I tried not to notice.

I also tried not to think about Emma.

That was harder.

Emma was in love with Cheng. Or at least interested enough that even I could see it. If she'd invited him out, there was a good chance she'd planned to confess—or at minimum spend time alone with him—and now he was dragging me along to ruin whatever she'd intended.

She had been visiting the apartment more often lately too. Usually they watched films or studied together, at least whenever I came home from shopping or whatever errand Cheng had sent me on.

What happened while I wasn't there was none of my business.

That didn't stop my mind from supplying possibilities.

"What's wrong with you today?" Cheng's voice cut through them. "You look like you've been somewhere else all day."

His arm settled around my shoulders, pulling me into his side.

My heart reacted so violently that irritation followed immediately.

"Don't know. Maybe I didn't sleep well."

I pushed him away just as I noticed Emma nearby.

She was smiling.

At him, obviously.

I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen without actually reading anything while she started talking. Cheng didn't seem particularly interested, but he listened anyway.

Why agree to come if you don't even want to be here?

Maybe that was simply how normal friendships worked.

Maybe I wouldn't know.

"So, now that we're all here, let's go." Emma adjusted her black cat-eye glasses, the frames making her dark green eyes stand out even more.

For the first time, I properly looked at her.

She was beautiful. Soft curves beneath her winter clothes, glossy hair, smooth skin along her neck where her scarf had shifted aside—

My attention caught there.

Neck.

Warm skin.

The sudden thought of kissing it—biting it—came so vividly that my stomach tightened.

"Stop looking at her like that. You're too obvious." Cheng's breath brushed my ear.

I startled.

He stepped directly into my line of sight, blocking Emma from view, and only then did I realise he had been guiding me through the crowd by the wrist. His fingers shifted until they brushed my palm.

The touch was ridiculously comforting.

The thoughts about Emma were not.

I'm not even into her. Why was I looking at her like that?

"What are you say—"

Cheng suddenly pulled me closer, one arm wrapping around my back.

I stopped breathing.

His mouth hovered near my ear.

"You're not allowed to have lewd thoughts about... someone else." I could hear the amusement in his voice. "It's an order from your boss."

Then he released me and walked towards Emma as though he hadn't just short-circuited my brain.

I stayed where he'd left me.

My ear felt hot. I pressed two fingers against the lobe and tried to slow my breathing.

Ahead of me, Emma slipped her arm around Cheng's and laughed at something he said.

Cheng looked back and smirked.

What was happening to me?

I felt too hot.

"I was thinking barbecue," Emma said once I finally caught up. "Cheng told me you love meat."

Apparently she'd remembered I existed.

"Yeah. He's right." I avoided Cheng's eyes.

He touched Emma's arm while she spoke, then looked at me again with that same infuriating expression.

I shrugged and fell a few steps behind them.

The streets were packed. Christmas decorations hung above shopfronts, and people moved around us carrying bags, gifts and cups steaming in the cold.

December.

I couldn't believe it was already December.

The thought killed what remained of my mood.

What would Mother do for Christmas without me?

Since Father disappeared, I'd become almost nothing to her. Maybe my absence wouldn't change anything. Families still gathered. They cooked too much food, filled tables, exchanged presents. If someone couldn't make it, the celebration happened anyway.

Everyone was replaceable.

No one was essential.

Something struck my shin.

I looked down.

A small ginger crossbreed dog stared up at me, tail wagging so violently its whole body moved with it.

"Oh."

We had stopped at a traffic light. I crouched, and the dog immediately pushed its head beneath my hand as though we'd known each other for years.

A smile escaped me before I could stop it.

I scratched behind its ears, then under its chin, discovering its favourite places by the increasingly enthusiastic wag of its tail.

For several seconds, everything in my head went quiet.

Those earthy eyes looked at me with uncomplicated happiness.

Imagine being able to make someone feel loved just by looking at them.

The pedestrian signal changed.

The leash tightened, and the dog was pulled away. It glanced back at me several times as its owner crossed the road.

I remained crouched for another second, strangely disappointed.

A hand landed gently on my head. "It liked you at first sight."

I looked up at Cheng.

"Not surprising," he added. "You have that effect on people."

I immediately shoved his hand away.

"I wish it didn't work on the ones with bad intentions," I murmured near his ear as I passed him. "I've had enough of those."

For once, his smile froze.

I crossed the street and started talking to Emma about absolutely nothing.

The temperature dropped as we walked, the wind cutting through our clothes. Emma seemed to solve the problem by attaching herself to Cheng whenever she felt cold.

It annoyed me far more than it should have.

I was cold too. You didn't see me climbing all over him.

Eventually, the restaurant came into view.

The relief lasted until the waitress led us towards a table beside the front windows.

My steps slowed.

The pub.

It was nearby.

Too nearby.

My chest tightened before I could reason with myself. I looked down at my shoes. The glass beside us suddenly felt enormous, exposing the street outside, and Emma's excited voice blurred into noise as she told the waitress the table was perfect.

I'm safe.

I clenched my jaw.

Nothing is going to happen. I'm safe.

"Sorry to be a pain," Cheng said, "but could we have a table on the opposite side? I don't like sitting near the windows."

My eyes lifted.

He wasn't looking at me.

The waitress smiled politely and led us towards the back.

I said nothing.

Neither did Cheng.

The new table sat against a red upholstered bench along the wall. Black marble surrounded a small grill built into its centre. Red and black dominated the restaurant, softened by warm lights embedded between dark pillars. Intimate. Probably romantic.

I looked at Emma. She had wanted a date.

And I had inserted myself directly into it.

Brilliant.

Cheng sat opposite me. Emma took the seat beside me and immediately began telling us something about her tutor.

I tried to listen. I really did.

Then Cheng smiled at me.

A small, knowing smile. Nothing dramatic.

Still enough to erase half of what Emma was saying.

He picked up the menu, occasionally nodding at her conversation. His red sweater sat closely over his shoulders, a blue shirt collar visible beneath it. Under the light above our table, the colours made his skin look warmer.

My eyes drifted towards his mouth.

Then lower.

His neck.

A vein moved faintly beneath the skin. My mouth watered.

The reaction was immediate enough to frighten me.

I leaned forward without meaning to.

Warm skin. Pulse. That strange hunger again—

A hand closed firmly around my knee beneath the table.

I snapped back.

Cheng was staring at me.

The teasing had vanished from his face.

There was alarm in his eyes.

I realised I was breathing too quickly.

A glass of water had appeared in front of me at some point. I grabbed it and swallowed almost half of it, forcing my attention onto the coldness in my throat instead of Cheng's neck—or the other, equally inconvenient reaction happening lower in my body.

Was I seriously that pent up?

Emma kept talking, sipping apple juice while Cheng answered her. Every time she looked away, however, his eyes returned to me.

I buried myself in the menu.

The waitress returned with our drinks and turned on the grill. Then, apparently deciding Emma wasn't enough competition for one evening, she started flirting with Cheng too.

Even Emma looked uncomfortable.

I needed out.

"Sorry—where's the toilet?"

Emma slid out of the booth so I could stand. The waitress pointed towards a sign I'd somehow missed.

I thanked her and left before anyone could ask why I was suddenly desperate to go.

Inside a bathroom stall, I locked the door and leaned against it.

My body was still wound unbearably tight.

Great. Guess I had to take care of it quickly.

I closed my eyes and let my hand move faster over myself, biting hard into my lower lip to keep quiet.

My breath caught almost immediately.

Heat had been building beneath my skin for what felt like hours, but now it seemed to gather all at once, spreading through my stomach and lower through my body until every muscle felt wound too tightly. My thighs tensed instinctively. My shoulders pressed harder against the stall, and I tilted my head back, releasing a shaky breath through my nose.

Fuck...

I tried to slow my breathing, but every time I thought I had it under control, another wave of pleasure tightened something deep inside me and stole the air from my lungs again.

My skin felt too sensitive. Too warm. Even my clothes suddenly seemed unbearable against it.

A quiet sound slipped through my clenched teeth.

I immediately pressed my lips together.

Keep quiet.

I squeezed my eyes shut harder, trying to concentrate only on what I was feeling.

No thoughts. No faces.

Just enough to finally get rid of this unbearable tension and go back to the table.

Except the moment I stopped controlling my thoughts, someone appeared behind my closed eyes.

Cheng.

In my imagination, Cheng sat on the closed toilet in front of me, slowly unbuttoning his blue shirt while his eyes stayed fixed on mine. It looked so real.

One button. Then another.

The fabric opened over the chest I'd spent far too much time pretending not to notice. His skin looked warm, slightly damp, his hair messy as his fingers travelled lower.

He undid his trousers and pushed them down, letting them gather around his ankles before leaning back, legs parted, his open shirt still framing his chest.

Watching me.

My hand moved faster.

Cheng's hand moved over himself, slow at first, almost teasing, while his other arm lifted above his head and came to rest against the cold tiles behind him.

The pose opened his body completely to me—shirt hanging loose, chest exposed, legs parted—as though he weren't simply letting me watch.

As though he were welcoming me closer.

His lips parted with each uneven breath, his chest rising faster as the composure on his face gradually slipped.

Then his movements quickened.

His stomach tightened. His thighs tensed. His raised arm pressed harder against the tiles while his head tilted back, exposing the long line of his neck.

And still, he was looking at me.

Come here.

He never said it.

In my imagination, he didn't have to.

“Cheng...”

His name escaped me before I could stop it.

My eyes flew open.

No.

What the hell was I doing?

I tried desperately to replace him with my ex-girlfriend. Her face. Her body. Memories that were familiar and safe because they didn't force me to question anything about myself.

Anything but Cheng.

But the harder I tried to replace him, the more vividly he stayed—open shirt, parted lips, his body inviting me closer, the exposed line of his neck. Even when I forced another face into the fantasy, it blurred back into his.

The tension finally broke. I pressed my lips together, breath catching as I rode out the last shudder with his name still trapped behind my teeth.

For several seconds, I couldn't move.

I rested my forehead against the stall wall, waiting for my pulse—and my breathing—to settle.

Fuck. That did not happen.

Once I trusted my legs again, I cleaned myself up, fixed my clothes, and unlocked the stall.

I stepped out, still avoiding my reflection as I turned towards the sinks.

Then I stopped.

Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze.

Cheng was leaning against the counter.

Looking directly at me.